A Slightly Different Word
by GeekyGingerGirl
Summary: Amy/Rory oneshot, focusing on the years between the Doctor's first visit and his return, and culminating in their first kiss. TRIGGER WARNING- Contains references to bullying and self-harm, as well as coarse language and other adult themes, but nothing explicit.


It started when she was seven. Nobody seemed too bothered by it; "It's harmless, they'll grow out of it eventually," said the parents. But of course, they only grew into it even more as they discovered they could say anything they wanted to, realized nobody was going to stop them.

_Bossy. Ginge. Weirdo._ She ducked her head and tried to ignore it, but still she cried at night.

Eight years old. _Psycho. She looks like a giraffe mated with a flamingo. What's her problem anyway? _She fought back now; she knew the Doctor was coming back for her. She kicked shins and pulled hair and refused to ever let herself cry again.

It only made it worse. _They_ called _her _a bully and smirked at her as she was taken to the Head's office. It was there in the waiting room that she met Mels, and told her about her Raggedy Doctor. It was there she made her first real friend.

Ten years old. It was around then that they began to pick up swear words. They hardly knew what they meant, but they knew they would hurt. _Bitch. _ She retreated deeper into her imaginary world, her world with the Doctor. Rory helped her blur the barriers between her head and the world around her.

Thirteen years old. She kissed a boy behind the school dumpsters. He laughed it off with his friends, and everyone else whispered about her. _Slut. I can't believe her. It's disgusting- she's not even pretty!_ It gave her a kind of power she couldn't explain. She kissed another boy at the school dance, then ran away when he left to get punch. She relished the betrayal in his eyes the next morning at school. She hated herself for that instant of triumph later that night, alone in her room. She saw the scissors on her desk, and remembered the other girls talking about what they did to themselves. But she couldn't do it. Not that night, anyway. She wouldn't conform, like they did. If she was going to hurt herself, it would be _special. _Thoughts like that made her hate herself even more.

Fifteen years old. _Whore. Does the carpet match the drapes? Fricking insane. _She very, very nearly let one of the boys get inside of her. But she didn't. She wasn't quite that wild, or quite that tame.

Sixteen years old. She took a job as a kissogram just to see the looks on their faces, and all the insults helped her stand taller and stronger, even as she fell apart on the inside. Her skirts got shorter, their eyes got wider. Rory watched her helplessly, for she was a stranger to him when they were around everyone else. When it was just the two of them and sometimes Mels, she seemed quiet, withdrawn, but passionate and feeling. At school, she was sharp and bold and _untouchable_. But he knew this wasn't the real her, and it was the other her he fell in love with.

After the awkward night when he'd revealed his feelings, she followed him and they just sort of stared at each other, unable to think of anything to say. The time since then had been no different from the months before. But now, two weeks later, Rory stood alone in a corner of the school dance floor, looking out of place and uncomfortable as she herself felt. Mels had dragged her along, but it was just so silly, a bunch of kids making fools of themselves to horrible, loud music. She slumped on a chair, holding a glass of sugary soda and watched as Mels joined the dancing crowds.

"Do you want to leave?"

It was Rory, the sound of his voice startling her away from that place so deep inside of her she wasn't even sure what it was. "I- sure," she stuttered, standing and leaving the glass behind on her chair. They walked into the hallway, easily slipping past the bored chaperones.

"Amy, I'm sorry…about that night, it's fine. You can just forget about it. It's only making things more awkward, and I- I don't want you to slip away entirely."

"You really want me to forget about it?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes. Hers were large and round in the darkness of the corridor, the black of her pupils ringed in deep green.

The word was there, on the tip of his tongue, three letters, one syllable. He opened his mouth to tell her, but a different word fell out. A word he later realised could be the best in the universe, and a word that changed his life. _"No."_

Amy stepped towards him, guiding his hands to her waist and placing her own on his shoulders. Not once did they break eye contact until their lips touched, light and gentle. It was her who started, knowing how to make Rory love it. But a second after they began kissing, she melted. It was a different kind of kissing, better than the fierce make-out sessions and awkward tongue kisses she'd had before. This was Rory- the only boy who ever mattered- pouring himself into the gentle movement of their mouths together. This was her letting him inside.


End file.
